


His Designated Visitor

by Overlocked



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Secret Snarry Swap 2018
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-16
Updated: 2018-12-16
Packaged: 2019-09-07 06:23:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16848784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Overlocked/pseuds/Overlocked
Summary: The war rages on and in the confines of Grimmauld Place Harry finds himself wishing Snape back to health.





	His Designated Visitor

**Author's Note:**

> I had to rewrite this story six times before I was satisfied – I had a hard time implying that there was a war going on from the perspective of someone who was not involved and effectively hiding in his room. I deliberately kept things vague so that the reader can impose their own interpretation in places. Happy Snarry Swap!
> 
> Prompt 15 from avioleta: Wartime fic. The war didn’t end with the Battle of Hogwarts. Now survivors are holed up at the school (or at Grimmauld Place, etc.) strategizing on how to end things once and for all. Snape is there recovering and Harry finds himself spending more and more time seeking out the man’s company. Merlin knows why.

The first time Harry entered Snape’s room was a complete accident. Long red hair had alerted him to either Ginny or Bill’s approach, and while he didn’t mind encountering Bill, he wasn’t quite so enthusiastic about Bill’s sister right now.

Someone had spoken to Ginny about how much more stable and reliable Harry would appear if there were a constant female presence in his life; not to mention how motivating it would be to the public to show that, despite the war, Harry Potter had time for a relationship. Harry suspected Ron had a hand in it as well – but not so much motivated by _Harry’s happiness_ as guilt at his own relationship with Hermione.

In her defence, Ginny wasn’t exactly throwing herself at him. She just seemed to constantly be around and attentive whenever Harry looked, and it made him feel rather unsettled. She also seemed to turn into a meek little lamb towards the person she had her attentions on, which was disappointing, as Harry had originally been attracted to her fiery personality.

He _did_ eventually want a family and he was sure he could make things work with Ginny, but his heart wasn’t in it at the moment. Perhaps in the future?

After the war?

Or not?

He very much wanted to postpone _that_ conversation, so he ducked into the first available room.

Why he spent the next hour staring at Snape’s comatose form was anyone’s guess, but he left feeling calmer and more confident about himself.

The second time he had raced there in a blind panic. It was barely two weeks since the _Battle of Hogwarts_ , and he found his nightmares returning with a vengeance now that his weariness had worn off. They were usually focused on those whose funerals he had to attend between war-meetings, but tonight he had been the snake attacking Snape, ripping tendons from his throat and leaving him for dead.

He could still taste the blood in his mouth.

He stared at the slow rise and fall of the blankets, the evidence that Snape was alive, for nearly half the night. Grimmauld place was in an uproar when he emerged, but he refused to say where he’d been.

When it happened a third time, Harry caught the attending Medi-wizard diluting the potions Snape was on. “He doesn’t deserve it,” the wizard had whispered in fear as Harry fought, in vain, to control his magic. It lashed out, shattering glass and objects alike and in the end it was Neville, the brave soul, who knocked him out to put an end to the madness.

They had to recast the Fidelius on the house and lost the use of an anteroom until they could bring a curse-breaker in to deal with the shattered remains of a vase. Additionally, a door appeared near the scullery that had never been there before. It turned out to be a small room dedicated to dark rituals and everyone avoided it with distaste.

Ashamed of himself, Harry insisted that he take over the duties of attending to Snape despite how much it added to his workload, and Mrs Pomfrey came around to teach him the essentials one evening. It was hard work and nerve racking, but he managed to work out a routine.

What little spare time he had went into medical studies, which both pleased and frustrated Hermione, as he was becoming knowledgeable in a subject she hadn’t studied. 

Yet.

He was involved in more field work due to his ability to assist with first aid, and even the new Aurors that transferred into the Department of Magical Law Enforcement started to respect his abilities despite his age. They had a major breakthrough when they managed to capture one of the new Death Eater Lieutenants who confirmed their suspicions: The remaining Death Eaters were operating under the direction of four men and they were still set on eradicating Muggle-borns.

That the Death Eaters were targeting Muggle-born children was new.

A discreet inquiry revealed that the wizarding register that documented all witches and wizards at birth was missing, and no-one seemed to be able to tell when it had happened. McGonagall arrived next with the Hogwarts charter, sitting with clasped hands and quivering jaw as they browsed through the future lists of students, horrified at the sheer number of names that had been struck out.

Harry unsuccessfully spent that evening attempting to get drunk in Snape’s room. He lamented the loss of a brilliant mind, because Snape would have seen through this ploy a mile away. Snape could have saved those children.

Snape would know what to do.

He ran out of alcohol before he ran out of sanity, but as it was in low reserves anyway, he fell asleep holding Snape’s hand and wishing he would wake up. 

He was therefore not in the best frame of mind when he himself woke up to two piercing black eyes studying him. It took even longer to realise that the studying was happening from an elevated position; Snape was sitting up in his bed.

“Don’t,” the deep baritone warned, and Harry settled for slight hyperventilation instead of the bone-crushing hug his body had been inching towards.

“You’re awake,” he said instead, feeling his eyes well up and hiding his face into the sheets as he cried his relief away.

Above him Snape sighed and he smiled at how _normal_ Snape was being.

“I’ve kept newspapers for you,” Harry offered when he could finally lift his head, “but would you like a quick account of anything?”

Harry spent a few minutes debriefing Snape on what had happened since Voldemort’s demise at the battle of Hogwarts, trying to be as factual as possible. When finally satisfied, Snape asked after his attending healer.

“Madame Pomfrey comes by every Wednesday. Healers have been rather in high demand recently, so she’s been spending most of her time at St Mungo’s while they rebuild Hogwarts. I’ll Floo her and see if she’s available.”

\--- 

Poppy Pomfrey stood at the door in complete shock as she took in Snape’s state of being, before flinging herself at him in tears. His scoffed, “Cease this blubbering,” was soft and infused with more warmth than the phrase would suggest, and she buried her face into his robes and sobbed harder.

“How?” she asked a good while later, straightening her apron self-consciously while wiping the tear tracks from her cheeks.

“I suspect Potter had a hand in it,” he admitted.

She started to unwrap the bandage at his throat. “He’s been good to you, Severus. And you for him, unconscious as you were,” she rushed to add.

“Evidence suggests he has been tending to me.”

“You’re far too- oh my…” Poppy still had a few layers to go, but it was evident that the ghastly wound at his neck had vanished. She stared in wonder. “We didn’t expect you to survive at first, Severus. Talk again, even less. This –“ she gestured at his neck, “is nothing short of a miracle.”

His gaze was unreadable. “I have surmised as much. Where is Potter?”

She scoffed. “As though I would know.” He kept staring at her, and she realised that he was not aware of exactly _whom_ he had just asked after.

“Oh, Severus. He leads the Order now.”

\--- 

Potter did not return until late that night, dragging himself into Severus’ room much as a dying kneazle would have crawled into a remote spot. When he finally raised his head to look at Severus, his face lit up with such a dazzling smile that the dour man missed his cue to comment on the man’s bedraggled appearance.

“Hi,” Potter said. “How are you feeling?”

He considered his reply. “Cooped up.”

The weight with which Potter collapsed into the chair suggested armour under his robes. “I saw the report from Madame Pomfrey. You’ll be up and around in no time.”

It was disconcerting that Potter was entitled to such information. 

“Poppy was rather hesitant to inform me exactly _why_ muscle atrophy set in.” There was a vast regimen of potions that would have prevented such an occurrence, and Severus was curious as to the circumstance that had led to the omission. Poppy was _not_ careless.

“Someone tampered with your prescription, but I’ve handled it. Can I get you anything?”

“Why are there no house-elves?” 

Potter shrugged. “Hermione. Anything else?”

Severus glared.

Potter left.

\--- 

Minerva dropped by on his second waking day, clutching his hand firmly during the entirety of her visit. He felt oddly soothed while she narrated the few months since the battle, her unique perspective and insight embellishing more onto the tale Potter had first told.

He discovered that his house in Spinner’s End had suffered a tragic fate, courtesy of the remaining Death Eaters, and even his living quarters had been desecrated during the battle. 

If he had any possessions left, he would have to sift through rubble to retrieve them.

“Is it just me, or are you extra grumpy today?” Potter greeted him that evening.

“Will you be imposing yourself upon me on a daily basis?” he growled in reply.

Potter sighed. “Ask me to stop and I will.”

In the silence, Potter left.

\--- 

Potter was gone for a week. Upon his return, he slinked into Severus’ room to collapse on the chair next to the bed, face buried in the sheets.

There was blood on his shoulder.

Severus contemplated his behaviour as footsteps sounded in the hallway. A female voice called out for Potter, followed by another.

“Your public awaits.”

The head groaned.

Severus stared at Potter for a moment longer before dismissing him and returning to his book.

\--- 

“I hear you are making progress.” 

Severus lowered his book. “Eager to be rid of me?”

Potter blinked. “Rid of you? This room is yours whether you’re recovering or not. Hasn’t anyone told you?”

“You, Poppy and Minerva have been my only visitors.”

The man heaved a sigh and dropped into what was very much becoming _his_ chair. To his credit he didn’t blame anyone. “You are free to stay for as long as you’d like – I’ve made the offer to several other people living here as well. I should actually just fetch the paperwork so you can read it for yourself.”

The paperwork was oddly thorough and reflected Granger’s work heavily, but Severus was rather certain that he would not wish to cohabitate with anyone longer than absolutely necessary. His options were limited though; Minerva had not offered him a teaching post at Hogwarts, something he was sure she would have done were it an option, and while the newspapers reflected his acquittal, they were not very positive about his person.

“I shall require clothing.”

Potter motioned towards the wardrobe with his eyebrows. “Everything in there is yours.”

He waited until the man left before attempting the undignified stoop towards the furniture in question, but ended up sitting on the floor in front of it as he wondered at the few rescued possessions of his that he was certain he would never see again.

\--- 

Two weeks after his revival he received a visitor in the middle of the day. Kingsley looked the worse for wear, but carried himself as though used to it.

“It’s good to see you, Severus.”

Severus nodded in response. “Kingsley.”

The man fidgeted. He wanted something. Severus thwarted his attempt at small talk and managed to learn that they wanted his input despite Potter’s protests that they leave Severus be.

Apparently he had already done ‘more than his share’.

It was pity that Severus flourished when he was useful, and while he made Kingsley sweat for it, he finally agreed.

He attended the next morning’s meeting, and found that the young man that visited him at night was an illusion at best. Potter exuded power and confidence and was a far sight from the boy he had grown accustomed to. He found himself eager to impress and had to bite back the impulse to step on that mine a third time.

Cold disdain.

Cold – disdain.

The Death Eaters were killing toddlers.

A locked memory emerged of a green-eyed babe trapped in a cot while crying for his mother, who was lying just outside of his reach, unmoving.

He Occluded.

That night Potter was distracted, and Severus took the time to study him and the magic he now knew was pulsing under that skin. It was wild and intoxicating and coiled tight. He wondered what passionate response would bring that magic forth, and what it would feel like to bask in it. 

“Would you like the library?”

Severus gestured towards the books next to his bed. “Your selection has been adequate. I have not yet perused them all.”

Green eyes met his as Potter looked at him properly for the first time that evening. “No, I meant, would you like to _have_ the library?”

Time seemed to stop.

“The books are too dangerous to keep around n–“ Potter flustered. “These books are dark. They need someone who knows what danger they pose; someone who can guard against it. And I’d like it if they can go to someone who will appreciate it.”

Potter was offering him the Black library.

“My only condition is that you allow me access if I should ever need it.”

_Potter was offering him the Black library._

“Shall I have the house-elves transport it to my mansion in the morning?” he deadpanned.

“I’ve warded the room, so it can stay here until you find a place of your own. I just wanted you to know that it is yours.”

Something had triggered this reaction in Potter, and he lay staring at the ceiling for a long time puzzling through the facts. It was absurd, but it appeared as though Potter wanted to keep him around – and what better way to do it than to gift him something he would never refuse, yet couldn’t remove? His attendance at the meeting must have planted the seed that Severus was recovered enough to leave.

What an odd conundrum Potter was turning out to be.

\--- 

Potter was absent the next two nights, so he vacated a small room next to the scullery for brewing purposes. It was unused and pulsed with latent magic, and he relaxed as he brewed his own prescription, tailored to his physiology. Longbottom brought him what he required upon his request, along with a list of potions the Order were in need of.

There were more Weasleys milling around than usual, and he managed to overhear a rather _scalding_ discussion between the matriarch and one of her brood.

Apparently Potter’s nightly wanderings occurred in secret, but his empty bed had been noticed. They speculated as to his paramour.

Severus rolled his eyes. Potter had no romantic designs on anyone. He treated everyone alike, perhaps with the exception of Severus himself.

Perhaps that was something worth exploring.

He thought on it for a while – Potter had a house, money, respect. Potter was capable of silence, had the means to privacy and did harbour a strange fascination with Severus.

If Potter welcomed the notion, perhaps he could take advantage of the opportunity while the man’s favour lasted. He might even satisfy his curiosity regarding the feel of that power…

He eagerly anticipated Potter’s return and proposed the idea with all the flair he used to present advancements to the Hogwarts’ school curriculum to the board of directors. Potter sat gobsmacked after his initial fight or flight instinct faded, and blushed bright red when Severus offered _sex_ in return.

He had him; he could see it. Potter just had to work around his embarrassment in order to accept it.

\--- 

Their arrangement commenced the following week. Potter’s transformation was a sight to behold – after their first night of introductory sex, the man shone like a star, eyes bright and motivated to succeed. Barely a week went by before Potter informed him that he had purchased a house in the country, and he would like Severus to start the warding process.

The house was quaint, and Severus moved in in short order. At night Potter joined him, and they very enthusiastically explored the dynamic between them. By day Severus brewed and plotted.

They kept the relationship a secret and, while there were no declarations of love, Severus could soon see it in Potter’s gaze. He considered the man foolish for it and stubbornly ignored his own fond tendencies.

Potter never became Harry, and Snape never became Severus. Whenever Potter caught a Death Eater, he would bring home their wand and very deliberately hand it over, a quiet, “for you,” on his lips. Severus proudly collected and displayed these in his lab, and if he stared at them with a secret smile while he brewed, no-one was any the wiser.

They did finally confront the leaders of the Death Eaters in a battle of note, and a large portion of London was destroyed. Five Muggle-born children were rescued alive and returned to their households, Minerva accompanying Potter to inform the distraught parents of their children’s heritage. 

Hogwarts reopened a month behind schedule and Severus found himself employed as a paid consultant for the advanced students in addition to his own line of research. Potter never commented when Severus’ income eclipsed his, and no mention was made on the fact that Severus could very well afford a place of his own by now.

The _Prophet_ was rife with speculation on Potter’s love life, but he adamantly ignored it and in time even his friends accepted his silence on the matter. Edward – he refused to call him _Teddy_ – was the only person from Potter’s life that visited his home, and it was from the mouth of babes that their secret finally spilled. A little seven-year-old boy denying his childish crush’s proclamation that she was going to marry _Uncle Harry_ one day.

“You can’t! Uncle Harry’s already married!”

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a comment here or at [LiveJournal](https://snape-potter.livejournal.com/3855241.html), [Insanejournal](http://asylums.insanejournal.com/snape_potter/1787634.html), or [Dreamwidth](https://snape-potter.dreamwidth.org/1107288.html).


End file.
